After Raymond

He had just popped out

Or so it seemed

His daughter said to me

His house his room

Now like a dream

Of how things used to be


All her cards collected kept

And notes lying here and there

Observations written

Left in books

Hanging in the air


And precious words he spoke to her

Just before he died

Remember those who went before

And live life well he sighed


And now the annual Christmas card

Arriving in my door

The dark black ink I recognise

Siobhan Siobhan a stor


Brian Fahy

22 December 2021  

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